


chaos within

by trailsofpaper (Sanwall)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Dirty Dancing AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 05:25:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4335575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanwall/pseuds/trailsofpaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You must have chaos within you to give birth to a dancing star.”<br/>― Friedrich Nietzsche</p><p>The year is 1963. Harry Styles has just turned nineteen and is about to go to the University of Manchester to study law at his father’s request, when his family brings him on a summer vacation to the Cowell Resort in Blackpool. There he gets entangled in a plot to help the local dance instructor, Louis Tomlinson, perform at the annual Blackpool Dance Festival.<br/>Louis’ living life in constant fear of being fired and unable to provide for his mother and sisters. Despite this, Louis keeps everyone at arm’s length with a bright laugh and glittering eyes. Harry’s worldview is shaken, and during the dance lessons with Louis, he finds himself oddly drawn to him and the confusing paradox he presents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> This is a dirty dancing au; I regret nothing. It's not particularly historically accurate even though research did help me write a lot of it. The annual Blackpool Dance Festival is a real thing but I am very sure it's nothing like I depicted it, even back in 1963.  
> I think this is a fic mostly dedicated to Louis Tomlinson, even though (or because) it's from Harry's point of view.
> 
> I warn you that this fic contains elements of homophobia and racism, expressed mostly in slurs.

Harry leaned out of the car window, curly hair streaming out behind him.

“What are you, a dog?” his sister Gemma scolded him, not looking up from her book.

“I’m just enjoying the sun,” Harry defended himself, closing his eyes as the wind made them tear up. He was enjoying the sun, rare as it was in England. He was enjoying the fact that his entrance exams for the University of Manchester were over and that he had an entire summer to be as carefree as he pleased.

Gemma and his parents were taking them to Blackpool instead of Brighton, because an old acquaintance of their dad’s had invited them to come and stay at his resort. Harry could picture it already: long days at the beach, maybe some golf with his dad if he felt like it, the perfect break from arduous studying.

Some of his enthusiasm had diminished by the time they pulled up by the resort; Gemma had worn him down with complaining about how nothing ever happened at this sort of tourist town, and how she was missing all of her friends back home already. Their mother snapping at her to be quiet and appreciate the scenery had made both Gemma and Harry antsy.

The resort was nice enough, located close to the prominent Blackpool Tower and the beach. As they stepped out from the car, a cheerful young man immediately came up to them and, in a noticeable Irish accent, offered to help them with their luggage. Another man, dark-skinned and handsome, holding a clipboard, politely asked them for their name.

“Styles. We’re friends with Mr. Cowell,” said Harry’s father, turning up his nose. Harry grimaced, nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Styles,” repeated the man, giving them a timid smile after a quick glance at this clipboard. “My name’s Zayn, please let me show you to your cottage.”

The cottage turned out to be quite spacious, and stylishly decorated. Harry let his fingers trail along the wood paneling of the door to his assigned room, inhaling the scent of sun-warmed dust. He felt restless, but his parents were already calling for him to come out to dinner.

~*~

Harry spent the following morning exploring the North Pier and the shopping arcade with Gemma. They returned to the resort by early afternoon, bright-eyed and giggly.

“Oh, there you are!” Anne exclaimed as they sauntered up the stairs to the veranda. “Simon has invited us all to the main hall for lunch!”

“Oh, that sounds like fun,” Gemma intoned, with a sarcastic eyeroll directed towards Harry. Harry only shrugged.

As they made their way up to the main building, Harry’s gaze fell on an attached pavilion, where a group of people were dancing the beat of some slow music.

One couple especially caught his eyes; a petite blonde woman, with a brown-haired man as her partner. They moved gracefully and in tandem, almost hypnotizing and in stark contrast to the stilted movements of the rest of the couples dancing.

“Who do you think they are?” he asked Gemma, nodding towards them.

Niall, the helpful Irishman, happened to be passing by with his hands full of dirty laundry. He laughed brightly, and answered him immediately,

“That’s our dance instructors. You ought to ask them fer some lessons!”

Harry let his gaze linger for just a bit longer. The girl was beautiful and elegant, but something about the boy and his concentrated face and powerful movements caught Harry’s attention.

He was snapped out of it by Simon Cowell, the owner of the resort and long-time friend of Desmond Styles, who came up to them with a big smile on his face.

“Simon!” Harry’s father exclaimed, holding out a hand.

“Desmond,” Simon replied with a measured smile, taking the proffered hand. “And Anne, how nice to see you! And your children - my, how you’ve grown!”

Gemma threw her hair behind her shoulders with a flick of her head. Harry fiddled with the hem of his shirt, a bit uneasy under Simon’s scrutiny.

Desmond and Simon led the way to the resort’s airy restaurant, a table on the terrace. A young man, whom Simon introduced as his nephew Ben Winston, joined them almost immediately.

“He studies management at the London School of Economics,” Simon declared proudly. “He works as my Entertainment Director here.”

Ben smiled broadly, and greeted them each individually. Desmond started asking him about his education, while Anne listened politely.

Harry felt distracted during the entire meal. Gemma seemed happy though, and after receiving a cheeky wink from Ben, she basically glowed.

When Simon mentioned something about dancing, Harry perked up.

“They’re teaching the cha-cha in an hour,” Ben told Gemma while gesturing with his wine glass. “We should go!”

 “Sounds like fun!” Gemma said, throwing an arm around Harry. “You’ll come, Harry, won’t you?”

“Maybe,” Harry said. He didn’t much fancy going with Gemma and Ben, but the thought of dancing sent a little spike of excitement tingling along his spine.

“Oh, you should go darling,” Anne said, with an encouraging smile. Harry entwined his fingers in his lap, smiling back a little hesitantly before nodding.

Thus Harry found himself slouching after Gemma and Ben to the pavilion. Ben glanced at him occasionally, looking a bit affronted.

The dance lesson was well-attended, the instructors standing amidst a sea of mostly middle-aged people. They introduced themselves as Louis and Perrie, bowing in unison, before gripping each other and showing the steps.

“Pick a partner,” the man, Louis, instructed with his noticeably northern accent. “If you’re leading, start with taking a step forward with your left foot.”

Gemma picked Harry immediately, and Harry could tell Ben looked a bit put off by it even as he held out his hand to some other lady. Harry gave him an apologetic shrug and twirled Gemma a little to make her laugh.

Harry’s gaze met Louis’ when he looked at him above Gemma’s head. A smile crinkled the corner of Louis’ blue eyes as he continued,

“Don’t step on your partner’s foot, though!”

Harry blushed, ducking his head. Louis couldn’t know, but Harry was notoriously clumsy, used to stepping on people’s feet if he didn’t knock them down with his elbows first.

After showing them the basic steps twice to the beat of some mellow music, Louis and Perrie went around, dancing a while with every guest. Perrie smiled at Harry while Louis swept Gemma away, leaving Harry a bit flustered.

Perrie was patient and kind, smiling encouragingly even when Harry messed up the steps.

“I probably shouldn’t lead,” Harry joked, looking down. Perrie laughed and patted his shoulder.

“Can’t be everyone’s strong suit,” she said, stepping back. “You’ll do just fine if you stop thinking about it too much.”

Harry joined with Gemma again, following her example. He glanced at Louis, who had now taken up a lady with well-styled blonde hair and pearls around her neck. Harry noticed that her bejeweled hand was resting not on Louis’ shoulder but dangerously close to the swell of his bum.

Harry tore his eyes away quickly, heat rising to his cheeks.

“What is it?” Gemma asked immediately, looking at him searchingly.

“Nothing,” Harry replied hastily. “Wait, how was this supposed to go?”

~*~

That evening, Desmond sent Harry to find Simon and invite him over for dinner. Harry traipsed over to the main hall, which was full of dinner guests but no Simon. Timidly, Harry checked behind the front desk, finding a hallway leading to a back room. Peeking around the door frame, he saw Simon, clearly in the middle of a speech, surrounded by the resort staff.

“... and I expect all of you to take good care of the daughters, and the wives if they’re so willing. Indulge them, boys. This is your chance to earn a little extra spending money for the term. I know you’re all heading for university, maybe even Oxford for some of you.”

Harry was about to announce himself when the sound of a door slamming shut echoed through the room. Louis, the dance instructor, came rushing in, clad in a leather jacket, brown hair in disarray from where it had been styled earlier.

“Except you, of course. Late again, Tomlinson,” Simon scolded coldly. “I don’t even want to hear your excuses.”

Harry thought he saw a defiant curl to Louis’ mouth, but he ducked his head apologetically and stayed quiet.

“That’s all I had to say, boys. Staff meeting again next Monday, and don’t be late.” Simon gave a dismissive wave and turned away.

The staff filed out the back door, Louis last in line. Harry knocked timidly at the door frame, and Simon’s head whipped around.

“Harry!” he said, moving a little so that he blocked the back door. Harry only caught a glimpse of Louis glancing back at them before he was gone.

“My parents wanted to ask you out for dinner with us,” Harry said dutifully, fiddling with his wristwatch.

“I’d be delighted,” Simon said, putting his arm around Harry’s shoulder, and kindly but firmly lead him away.

~*~

The following evening Anne and Desmond went out to dinner just the two of them, leaving their children on their own. Gemma waited what she deemed an appropriate amount after their leaving to tell Harry that she was going out to the Central Pier.

“I’m meeting Ben!” she said excitedly, grabbing her purse and her coat. “Be a dear and don’t tell mum and dad!”

“’Course not,” Harry replied, but he was interrupted by the door slamming shut. He sighed, twiddling his thumbs for a bit and wandered around the cottage aimlessly before going out the door himself.

He had no destination in mind; he wandered up to the resort centre but it was pretty much deserted at this time of day, only a few guests eating a late dinner and some couples on an evening walk, heads put together and hands clasped.

The sound of the sea was a vague murmur in Harry’s ears and the dusk painted everything in blue hues. He rounded the resort centre and went onto unfamiliar ground.

The sound of voices made Harry’s head snap to the right. One of the voices sounded decidedly like Ben Winston, which perked his interest. Harry followed the voices carefully, but stayed just out of sight behind a pair of cottages.

It was indeed Ben Winston, leaning nonchalantly onto the small porch on one of the cottages. A small stripe of smoke slithered up into the air from the cigarette he was holding between his fingers, and he was talking to Zayn, who had his own cigarette clenched between teeth.

“- and that Perrie is a good-looking bird, isn’t she?” Ben said, making an obscene gesture with the hand not holding the cigarette.

“Don’t talk about her like that,” replied Zayn around his cigarette. His tone was calm, but Harry could read the tension in his frame where he stood ramrod straight, arms crossed.

“Or you’ll do what?” Ben scoffed, taking a drag. “Don’t try to give me lip, you fucking paki. You know I can have you fired.”

Harry put up his hand to cover the soft gasp that he let out. Neither of the men seemed to hear him, though.

Zayn dropped his cigarette into the grass, crushing it into the ground with his heel. He walked off, without saying a word or even giving Ben Winston another glance.

Harry’s heart was beating in his chest as he kept on walking, hoping that Gemma had tired of waiting already.

~*~

The air smelled of salt and something unfamiliar and inherently foreign to Harry, and he kicked a stray pebble of the cobbled path he was taking.

 “Niall, for chrissakes, get your arse over here and help me carry these things!” Harry heard someone shout, just before a man stumbled out on the path. He was trying to balance three watermelons in his arms, but one inevitably toppled over. In an unusually quick move, Harry caught it in his hands.

“Thanks, mate” said the man, looking up at Harry with earnest brown eyes. His brown hair was cut short and he was clad only in a white tank top despite the evening chill. Harry shuddered a little even though his own collared shirt was warm enough.

He held up the watermelon in an unspoken question, but before the man could say anything, Niall came after him with a watermelon of his own clutched in the crook of his arm.

“Harry!” he said happily, “This is Liam, he works here. Liam, this is Harry, he’s a guest.”

“Oh!” said Liam, almost losing his grip on his two watermelons when he tried to do a strange little half-bow. “Oh, um, well, we should take it from here, Niall, if you could -”

“Nonsense!” Niall interrupted, waving his free hand. “Let the lad come, he’s alright.”

 Harry found himself trailing after the two boys up to a set of cottages, decidedly smaller and less scenic than the ones where he was staying with his family. The soft thumping of music harmonized with the sound of the crickets and the swelling of the sea, and Harry felt his heart lodge in his throat as he followed Liam and Niall inside one of the bigger cottages.

The air inside was humid, almost pressing in its heat. The music enveloped him, thumping in rhythm with his heart. Harry swallowed and pressed the watermelon closer to his chest.

The room was filled with people, dancing and moving together in couples or groups. Skirts were hiked up and shirts popped open where people shamelessly ground against each other; some had closed their eyes while others’ mouths hung open.

Harry pressed closer to Liam, who moved through the crowd unfazed. He put the watermelons down on a table, so Harry and Niall did the same.

“Who’s this?” a sharp voice asked, cutting through the music. Harry turned around, pressing his back against the table. It was Louis, the dance instructor who’d been late for Simon’s staff meeting. His eyes seemed dark in the dimly lit room, and Harry was surprised to discover that he was a few inches shorter than Harry himself.

“This is Harry,” Liam said, glancing at Harry with a little smile.

“What’s he doing here?” Louis demanded, looking Harry up and down with a disdainful twist to his mouth. Harry bristled a little under the scrutiny, pulled up to his full height and answered with as much dignity as he could muster,

“I carried a watermelon.”

“Did you now,” Louis said without changing his expression. “Was it the first time you had to do manual labour? D’you want a medal?”

“What - no, I just wanted to help!” Harry said, his hand coming up to fiddle with the rolled up sleeve of his shirt. Louis scoffed, clearly unimpressed.

“Tell me, Curly, do you dance?”

“Not- not really,” Harry said, taken aback. His hands clutched at the edge of the table, but Louis gripped his shirt forcefully, pulling him out on the dance floor amidst the sea of bodies.

Louis was shimmying a little, putting his hands on Harry’s waist and leaning up to breathe in his ear.

“It’s all in the hips,” Louis told him in a near-whisper, and Harry shuddered. He tried to mimic Louis’ movements, moving his legs as much as he could to the beat of the music.

Louis let out a laugh and moved away. He found Perrie, and together they danced gracefully, almost sensually close to each other. Harry watched, hypnotized, as Louis trailed a hand down Perrie’s arm.

Some other girl bumped into Harry, dragging him along. He lost sight of Louis, but found Zayn instead. Harry extricated himself from the girl’s grip and went over to Zayn, who smiled and handed Harry a drink. Harry sniffed it, wondering if he should mention that he’d witnessed Zayn and Ben’s interaction earlier.

“How’s Cowell resort treating you?” Zayn said sarcastically, raising his own glass in a mock toast.

“Just fine, thanks,” Harry replied, deciding not to mention anything, and taking a sip. It burned all the way down and tasted marginally worse than cat piss.

“So,” he coughed, as his eyes fell on Louis and Perrie again. “Are those two, you know, together?”

“Lou and Perrie?” Zayn said, chuckling as if Harry’s suggestion was hilarious. There was something fond in his eyes as the tracked the pair on the dance floor. “Not on your life, mate. Like cats and dogs, those both are.  They can dance, though.”

“I’ll say,” Harry replied absentmindedly, watching as Louis twirled Perrie twice before pulling her close and bending her backwards. There was a heavy pause in the music before it swelled again. Harry imagined he could feel it physically battering him, and he took another sip of the alcohol.

Harry left in the middle of the night, the moon illuminating his way. He sneaked into his room, slightly unsteady and feeling breathless. He fell asleep to the sound of his heart thumping in his ears.


	2. chapter two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suggested music for this chapter is John Lennon's Working Class Hero

After his illicit visit to the staff quarter that night, Cowell resort held even less appeal for Harry. He did go golfing with his dad occasionally, but wandering across the green didn’t relax him as it usually did. He saw Liam and Niall and Zayn going about their work sometimes, and they greeted each other warmly, but Louis was always holding dance lessons or else he was gone from the resort.

Anne noticed his sour demeanor, and she encouraged him to sign up for the Cowell Resort Annual Talent Show held by the end of July. They’d decided to stay just long enough to see it.

“Please go sign up, darling,” she said, smiling and nudging him until Harry smiled, too. “You have such a lovely singing voice, everyone will love it.”

Harry agreed, mostly so he could have something to do. He set out to practice every other afternoon, and Anne encouraged him warmly.

Gemma took him swimming in the still freezing ocean once, but Harry emerged from the waves cold and miserable, shaking his curly hair to get rid of the water.

Gemma left him on the veranda of their cottage with a cup of tea in his hands. She was off, no doubt to see Ben Winston again. Their parents were off somewhere too, and Harry was left alone with his thoughts.

He sipped his tea, thinking about the fall when he was going to move to Manchester to start his studies. For some reason the thought didn’t make him happy or excited, but rather it made him feel dread.

Just normal stress before moving out, he supposed, crossing his legs. This bared his ankle below the rolled-up cuff of his trousers, and the breeze from the sea made him cold. He shivered and uncrossed his legs, getting up to wander aimlessly around the resort.

Later he wondered if he was aimless after all, because he ended up back at the staff quarters. The door to the big cottage where they had danced was open, and Harry stepped inside, quickly before he could decide against it.

He heard loud voices, which turned out to belong to Louis and Perrie. They were standing in the middle of the floor yelling at each other, with Zayn half a step behind Perrie, and Liam as a silent bystander. They both acknowledged Harry with looks, but stayed quiet. Harry didn’t know what to say either, so he just listened.

“ - real nice of you, to just leave me in the middle of the season!” Louis shouted, gesturing pointedly. He was wearing a loose white shirt and slacks, and she was dressed in a pastel coloured dress, both obviously on a break from teaching dance lessons

“We can’t take it anymore, Louis,” Perrie shouted back, throwing her hands in the air. “I’m tired of all these old men staring at me, copping a feel when they think their wives aren’t looking. And the way Ben Winston’s been acting... I just don’t want to stay, Louis. They’ve offered me a job in London. A chance for me to do something of myself!”

When Louis said nothing, she reached out a hand, pleading.

“Come with us, then” she said softly. “I’m sure they’d love you, you’re such a good dancer. I bet you’re tired of the old ladies ogling your arse as well!”

Louis crossed his arms.

“You know I can’t, Perrie,” he said, and Harry could tell it pained him. “I have a steady job here, and at the docks in the fall. Can’t leave me mum with all my sisters to feed -”

“But we need to leave, Louis,” Zayn interjected. “Simon will be sure to fire us both if he finds out we’re together.”

Zayn paused and squeezed Perrie’s hand, and when she turned to him, he smiled lovingly.

“I just want to marry her,” he said. Harry felt a tug in his chest, an unnamable feeling somewhere between longing and regret.

“Why can’t you stay?” Louis tried. “At least until the season ends?”

Zayn and Perrie looked at him then. Perrie put a hand on her belly. Harry swallowed quietly, feeling that there was something being unsaid.

“We need to get married soon,” Zayn said, quietly. “Besides, Ben’s been calling me names and hanging after Perrie lately. Wouldn’t mean anything, if it wasn’t for how Simon hangs off his every word. I swear, Louis, if I don’t quit now he’s going to fire me soon.”

Louis looked deflated at Zayn’s words.

“Simon’ll be sure to give me the boot too if I can’t represent the resort at the festival,” he said, pausing to scrub at his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Which I fucking can’t without a partner, and I bloody well won’t find another this close to the festival.”

“I could be your partner,” Harry blurted out. Everyone’s attention landed on him - Perrie seemed surprised, as did Liam and Zayn. Louis just looked annoyed.

“I mean, I’m not much good, but I’m sure I could, I dunno, advertise the resort at least?”

Harry pulled at the sleeve of his sweater consciously. He was sure Louis didn’t even remember the taunt from the night they danced, but Harry felt the comment still itching under his skin. He wanted to prove Louis wrong somehow; show Louis that he was capable of hard work even if no one had ever demanded it from him before.

“That could work, actually,” Liam said, earning Harry’s gratitude for all eternity. “I mean, you’re not in it to win it, right, you’re just there to promote the resort. Two men dancing the cha-cha is sure to get everyone’s attention, at least.”

Louis stared at Liam for a bit, and then looked at Harry.

“I’ve seen that one dance,” he said dubiously. “If you could call it that.”

“Maybe I just didn’t have a very good teacher,” Harry shot back. He was aiming for sarcasm, but his voice seldom carried emotion. It came out too flat, sounding like a challenge.

Louis’ slanted eyebrows arched.

“Well, it’s not like I have a lot of options,” he said, after a pause. “Styles, was it?”’

“Harry,” Harry confirmed, pushing a brown curl behind his ear.

“It’s three weeks until the British Amateur Latin American Tournament at the annual Blackpool dance festival, “ Louis said, sharply, putting his hands on his hips. “We’ve got a routine, but I’ll have to relearn it as you -” here he nodded towards Perrie, “- are a fair bit taller than my ex-partner.”

“So that’s settled then?” Perrie said, looking from Louis to Harry and back again.

“I suppose so,” Louis said with a flick of his head. “I’ll see you, Styles, bright and early tomorrow morning, yeah?”

“Uh, yeah,” Harry agreed, suddenly wondering where his decision to help would lead. Louis just walked past him, leaving Harry in the doorway. Liam and Zayn were hugging, and Perrie seemed to be gathering up her things.

“This is nice of you, Harry,” she said, clutching a bag close to her. Harry only shrugged.

“It’s not like I have a lot lined up for this summer,” he said. “Good luck with your job in London.”

He took off after one last look at Zayn and Liam. For the first time since arriving in Blackpool, Harry felt a shiver of anticipation in his stomach.

~*~

He made his excuses after breakfast the following morning, having made sure to dress in comfortable slacks and a loose, white t-shirt. He had no idea what to expect, but he didn’t think Louis would go easy on him even though it was his first lesson.

He found Louis sitting cross-legged on the floor of the big cottage, dressed much like Harry was.

“Good morning,” Harry said, slowly. Louis immediately scrabbled upright, looking as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“You’re here,” Louis replied, dusting off his backside and moving to the record player in the corner. He put on a slow song that reminded Harry of the one that had played during the dance lesson Gemma and he attended - the volume was so low that he could hear the footfalls when Louis padded over to him on bare feet.

“So,” Louis began, looking right up at Harry. The focus was unwavering, and Harry felt uncomfortable under the icy blue stare. “Do you remember anything from your lesson before?”

“Uh,” said Harry, guiltily. He shuffled his feet a little, in a sad approximation of the steps he remembered. He squirmed when Louis let out a sigh.

‘Alright,” he said. “You need to lead, so you just put your right foot forward, follow up with two small steps, then back, two small steps. Like this.”

Louis held up his hands as if he was holding a partner and showed Harry the steps, swaying his hips elegantly. Harry looked on intently and tried to imitate Louis’ movements. He felt extremely ungraceful, his jerking steps a far cry from Louis’ fluidity.

Louis looked on, head tilted a little to the side, and to Harry’s surprise, he didn’t comment. Instead he stepped to Harry’s side, placing one hand on Harry’s belly and the other on the low of his back. His hands were warm, and Harry inhaled self-consciously, feeling his stomach contract under the touch.

“Back straight,” Louis murmured. “Just learn the steps first, the swaying will come naturally.”

Harry swallowed.

“Alright,” he said with a low voice, before clearing his throat. He tried the steps again, with Louis’ hands guiding him.

After Harry had gotten the basic sets of steps down, Louis had to go reset the record player. Harry felt warm, a stray lock of hair curling on his damp forehead. He pushed it aside impatiently, and when Louis returned to show him the twirl, he thought that this was going to be easier than he anticipated.

“I do the twirl,” Louis explained, demonstrating as he spoke. “You need to lead me into it. And then you need to catch me with my back turned to you, my hand, like this.” He grabbed Harry’s free hand, turning his back and placing it on his stomach. Harry got a faceful of Louis’ hair and jerked back reflexively, letting go with both of his hands.

Louis whipped around, anger etched into every line of his strangely delicate features.

“What the hell?” he demanded. “If you don’t want to do this, all you have to do is leave.”

“No, no!” Harry protested, waving his hands. “I just - I was surprised, is all. C’mon, let’s try it again?”

“I have to leave to hold dance lessons for the others,” Louis said, and Harry couldn’t tell if he sounded relieved or annoyed. “Just... practice a bit, yeah?”

Harry nodded eagerly.

“I will,” he promised.

Louis gave him a tight smile, buttoning his collared shirt as he stuck his feet into some dance shoes by the door. Harry watched him leave and heaved a sigh before following him out, blinking in the harsh sunlight.

~*~

Harry practiced the steps on his way back, when he was certain no one was watching. He went through the routine twice before going to bed that evening, and when he woke he felt wound up, like he hadn’t slept at all.

As he dressed and made his way back to the staff quarters the following morning, he wondered why it was so important to him to show Louis he wasn’t just a posh twat with a silver spoon in his mouth. He didn’t have any answers, he realized, but the feeling of having to prove himself persisted.

This was why he didn’t give up when Louis snapped at him to stop slouching, or when Louis slapped his arms because they were hanging down a bit instead of being ramrod straight. This was why he bowed his head in contrition and apologized continuously when a move called for Harry to stand behind Louis, Louis hand raised and gently gripping Harry’s neck, face turned so that their foreheads touched and noses bumped, and Harry kept giggling every time their eyes met.

~*~

“And then turn, turn, turn, step, lift - yeah, we’ll practice that one later - step, twirl, catch me like we practiced, good, that’s good Harry, step and stop.”

Perrie and Zayn had left that morning. Harry had arrived just as they were saying their goodbyes. Harry had felt sad at seeing them go, especially Zayn, since they’d struck up a tentative friendship after that evening at the staff quarters.

They’d both been so lovely, and so in love that Harry couldn’t but wish them the best of luck.

Louis had been strangely patient, Harry felt, but also subdued. His normal energy, usually channeled into frustration at Harry, was nowhere to be found. By the third go-through, Harry managed the entire routine without missing so much as a step.

Harry couldn’t help the blinding grin splitting his face in two, when he turned to Louis for criticism. Louis only smiled back, nodding once.

“Really good,” he said. “Niall will be here any minute, you’ll have to dance with him a bit so I can watch your form, maybe help you get better.”

“Okay,” Harry said, still smiling. “That went pretty well, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, yeah, it did,” Louis said, turning away to fuss with the record player. A strained silence fell, and Harry leaned against the wall beside the record player, nonchalantly putting his hands in his trouser pockets.

“So how come this festival is so important, anyway?”

Louis sighed, straightening up. His long eyelashes fluttered, and he bit his lip before answering.

“I really need this job, Curly. It pays well, which my work in Manchester during winter doesn’t. Simon gave me the task of advertising the resort during the festival, which is, like, a huge deal, right?”

“Right,” Harry nodded, willing Louis to continue.

Louis’ eyes seemed startlingly blue when he looked at Harry, who thought he saw something stubborn in the way Louis curled his lower lip.

“I have four younger sisters. It’s down to luck that a nobody like me landed this work, right, and if I got the boot, there’s no one else that’d hire me. It’d be back to the bloody docks for me, all year round.”

Harry felt something lodge in his throat.

Louis kicked at the wall, aimlessly and without real force.

“They need every penny I make,” he finished, with a small shake of his head.

“What about your dad, then?” Harry asked, worrying his lower lip with his thumb. Louis let out a bitter huff, crossing his arms and putting his shoulder to the wall.

“Died in the war, didn’t he. Never knew ‘im. My sisters’ dad, he buggered off after the twins were born. Good riddance, too.”

Harry had been newly born when the war ended, and his father had never even been to the front as far as he knew. He could picture it too well though, little Louis running around and helping his mother with newborn babies; the image made something in Harry’s stomach ache.

“‘M sorry,” Harry mumbled, lowering his eyes.

“Didn’t tell you that for your pity, Styles!” Louis snapped, uncrossing his arms just to cross them again, turning his head away.

A brittle silence fell.

Harry cleared his throat.

“We’ll make an odd looking couple, won’t we,” he said, slowly. “I mean, two men dancing?”

Something strange flitted over Louis’ face, before he shook his head a little.

“It’ll get them talking,” he said, showing his pointed incisors in an approximation of a grin while he bent down to put on the record player again. “And that’s what Simon’s paying me for, innit?”

Something of a weight left Harry’s shoulders at Louis’ words. Niall entered just as the record started playing something jazzy and upbeat.

 “Alright, lads!” he exclaimed immediately. “How’s the dancing?”

“Alright, Niall!” Louis replied, clapping a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Well, see for yourself. C’mon Curly, take Nialler for a spin.”

“Okay,” said Harry hesitantly, suddenly self-conscious, Niall was waiting, patiently, with a big smile on his sunny face.

“Show me what you got, Hazza,” he said, throwing his arms out. Harry laughed then, taking Niall in his arms, carefully. It felt weird dancing with someone other than Louis, but Niall seemed to know the steps well enough, even if Harry suddenly felt unsure.

Louis sat cross legged down on the floor, nodding along to the music while he watched intently. Harry did okay, but he was more careful with Niall, slower and less smooth, he was sure. Louis didn’t comment much, but thanked Niall afterwards. Niall laughed and said it was a pleasure.

“Oi, Harry,” he said at last. “Heard your family was looking for you, something about dinner.”

“Oh!” said Harry, remembering the time. “Gosh, I need to go!”

“Go,” Louis said with a dismissive wave. “See you tomorrow, Styles. And bring your swim shorts”

“Alright,” Harry said, a little confused, as he reached for the door.

He hesitated at the door, but didn’t know what to say, so he just left.


	3. chapter three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew, I sure picked a week to post this fic on, didn't I

Harry showed up bright and early the next day, swim shorts dutifully tucked in his back pocket. He couldn’t help the slight flutter in his stomach at the sight of Louis in his jeans and white t-shirt, where he leaned on the doorframe of the cottage.

“Nice day today, innit Curly?” he asked with a crooked grin, squinting against the sun.

“Yup, sure looks like it,” Harry answered, making a show of looking up at the blue sky.

“Well,” said Louis, taking a little jump down to the ground. “Just a week until the performance, and we need to practice the lift. Let’s go.”

Harry followed Louis down the path he’d wandered up with Liam and Niall that fateful evening two weeks ago. He wondered vaguely where they were going, something akin to excitement bubbling at the pit of his stomach.

They came out at the edge of the resort among a copse of trees, and Harry’s eyes instantly fell on Louis’ goal. It was a worn, blue Lambretta, leaning precariously on a tree.

Louis righted it and led it down to the little dirt road. He swung a leg across and nodded over his shoulder, winking at Harry.

“Well, come on then, up you go,” he urged. Somewhat hesitantly, Harry climbed up behind Louis, putting his hands down between them and gripping onto the seat.

He quickly grabbed hold of Louis though, when Louis kicked the battered old motorcycle into gear. Harry felt his stomach swoop down as they did the same on the road. He thought he could hear Louis’ laughter past the whooshing in his ears, and he pressed closer to Louis’ back, arms crossed tightly on his narrow chest.

Three heartbeats later, Harry finally got the courage to open his eyes and look over Louis’ shoulder. They were driving down a dirt road still, but they’d come out by the sea, well away from the center of Blackpool, Harry didn’t realize he’d loosened his grip when Louis leaned to the side to take a slight curve. Harry pressed in closer again, concentrating on the steady rhythm of Louis breathing.

His back was warm, and Harry felt a shiver run through his entire body. The feeling in his gut reminded him of that time Ellie West had brought him to the back of the school yard to kiss him - the same hot, fluttering quiver that made his insides soft.

Before long, they skidded to a halt, and Harry climbed off, desperately trying to smooth down his wind-ruffled locks. Louis left the Lambretta by the roadside, and led Harry down the rocks to a secluded little cove with sandy beaches and the remnant of a dam-like structure separating it from the sea. There was only a broken line of stones left, rising just above the water, reaching from beach to beach in line with the horizon.

The seawater in the cove lay still and deceivingly blue. Harry followed down Louis onto the sand, where Louis kicked off his shoes,

He looked at Harry from under his lashes while he rolled up the cuffs of his jeans. Harry followed his example, but when Louis ran out to the line of stones, taking a big, sure-footed leap, landing elegantly on them, he hesitated.

Louis took several steps out onto the slippery stones, and turned around. He lifted his arms, making a graceful arch with them, rising up to his tiptoes before sinking down on his heels.

“We’re supposed to be training the lift, Curly!” he said, loudly over the sound of the ocean. “Can’t do it from way over there.”

Harry felt a laugh bubbling up; it was born out of fear and excitement, a nervous flutter in his stomach translated into a chuckle. He made his way to the edge of the water, prodding the closest rock with a toe.

“How’d you become a dancer anyway?” he asked Louis, trying to draw out the moment.

Louis swayed on the rocks then, and for one breathtaking moment, Harry thought he was going to plummet into the sea. He regained his balance, though, tripping a few stones closer to Harry.

“There was this bloke back in Manchester,” Louis said, avoiding Harry’s eyes. “He, uh, taught me a lot of things, dancing was one of them. Simon happened to see when he was showing some of us lads some dance moves, and he thought I seemed promising, so.”

Louis looked up, right into Harry’s eyes, and beckoned him closer with a cheeky hand gesture. Harry shook his head vehemently, crossing his arms petulantly.

Louis made his way back and reached out both hands. Harry looked up defiantly, but his protest died on his lips as he met Louis’ insistent gaze.  Louis’ eyes were as blue as the sea, twinkling like the scatter of sunlight on the waves, the arch of his eyebrows promising mischief while a little smile played on his lips. Louis waited patiently, hands outstretched and the slight breeze blowing strands of brown hair about his narrow face.

Harry swallowed thickly, allowing himself to realize his undeniable attraction to Louis for the first time. He took Louis’ proffered hands, and let himself be dragged out onto the stones, feeling like the world had dropped out from under him.

Harry let out an involuntary gasp. Saltwater licked at his toes as he curled them to stay upright, knees buckling and knuckles whitening where he grasped Louis’ hands tight.

“There we go, Styles, nice and easy,” Louis said, laughter in his voice as he led Harry step by step further out the stones. If it weren’t for his steady grip, Harry was sure he’d have fallen into the water immediately.

“Why are we doing this?” Harry asked, looking down as he carefully took step after step. Louis let go of one hand, and Harry felt Louis nudging his chin with a finger. The touch startled him, and he looked up, straight into Louis’ clear eyes.

“Eyes up here,” he said, with a strangely breathless tone to his voice. Harry swallowed, but kept his eyes trained on Louis. The corner of Louis’ mouth twitched when he continued,

“Balance, Curly. Very important for the lift.”

Harry nodded without releasing eye contact. When Louis tugged his hand away, slowly, Harry bit his lip and stayed upright on his own.

Louis backed up a few steps, and Harry followed him, taking one deliberate step forward, onto a new stone.

“And he’s got it!” Louis announced, loudly. Harry laughed and kept his balance, but his heart flew to his throat when Louis bent backwards into a flawless bridge, kicking his legs up into the air and standing on his hands.

“Oh my god!” Harry shouted, but laughed immediately afterwards. It was like someone had poured sparkling wine into his veins, he felt airy and jittery in the best possible way. Louis got on his feet again, cheeks flushed and hair mussed from the exercise.

Louis grinned brightly, and did a little jig on the stones. Harry smiled back and tried to do the same, moving to music they could only imagine.

As they made their way across the stones, back to dry sand, Harry felt euphoric. He’d crossed the water without falling in, with Louis looking at him the entire time. He was giddy with it. Louis only smiled and clapped Harry’s shoulder.

“Race you,” he said, and set off along the beach. Harry was quick to follow, but still unable to catch up.

Louis came to a halt by their discarded shoes, and Harry collapsed down in the sand, laughing. The sound caught in his throat when Louis, standing up and looking towards the horizon, pulled off his shirt over his head. Harry watched as he let the shirt drop beside him, and when Louis undid his trousers, he swallowed thickly.

“What- what are you doing?” he asked. Louis looked down on him, mouth curling into a smirk.

“Put on your swim shorts, Styles. It’s easier to practice the lift in the water.”

Harry dug out his swim shorts from his back pocket, and shook off some sand. There was no bath house where he could change, and a flush crept over his cheeks. Louis kicked off his own trousers, already wearing swim shorts underneath.

“Oh, go on!” he said, suddenly sounding a bit terse. “There’s no one around, and I won’t look, alright.”

“Alright,” said Harry, and began to shimmy out of his trousers and pants, while Louis strode to the waterline, back firmly turned.

Harry changed as quickly as he could, and joined Louis by the waterline, hugging his own arms self-consciously.

Louis took one look at his bright, yellow swim shorts and burst out laughing.

“Alright then,” he said, lightly. “Out we go.”

Louis waded out boldly, splashing water all over Harry, whose skin prickled immediately. He gulped in a deep breath and followed Louis. The water was cold, but not as cold as he’d feared.

Soon they were submerged up to their chests, and Louis turned to Harry, creating a dramatic swirl in the water.

“Back up a few paces, yeah?” Louis said. His tone was so soft it sent a shiver down Harry’s spine. He obeyed, and looked back at Louis expectantly.

“I’m going to run up to you, right? Then you’ll grab me here–” Louis demonstrated, pushing his hands to his ribs, “–I’ll put me hands on your shoulders, and with the momentum I’ll push up. You need to lift your arms straight and they should hold my weight just fine. Alright?”

“Alright,” Harry echoed, but he felt very doubtful. He bent his knees a little, feeling the water move around him. Louis crouched down as well before straightening up and taking three big leaps through the water. His cold hands settled on Harry’s shoulders, and Harry grabbed his torso, pushing upwards with such force that they immediately toppled backwards, Louis plummeting headfirst into the water.

They emerged spluttering wildly, water dripping into their eyes.

“Sorry,” Harry coughed, pushing back the wet mess of curls from his forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“Credit for trying,” Louis huffed, but his eyes were kind as he readied himself for another try.

On the third try, Harry managed to hold Louis above his head for a breathtaking moment, before his arms buckled and they fell into each other, sprawling down into the salt water with entangled limbs.

By the fifth try, Harry’s teeth started chattering so intensely Louis seemed to forget to keep his body tense, and slid helplessly down, splashing chest-first into the unforgiving surface.

“Might as well call it a day, Curly,” he sighed as he rose, swiping his wet fringe out of his eyes.

Harry’s eyes caught on Louis’ eyelashes, dark and clumped together by the water. He nodded, not trusting his voice, and they waded back to the beach to dry a bit in the afternoon sun.

Louis seemed suddenly distant, and Harry chewed at his salt-chapped lips all the way back, feeling his wet swim shorts dampen the back pocket of his jeans, just like his curls soaked the collar of his shirt.

~*~

“Haven’t seen you all day, love,” Anne said kindly, as Harry sat down at the dinner table in the cottage where the dinner was served. “What have you been up to?”

“Went swimming,” Harry answered and then stuffed his mouth as quickly as he could to avoid answering any follow-up questions.

“That sounds great,” Gemma said and playfully dug her elbow into his side. “You hated it the last time, who convinced you to have another go?”

Harry shook his head and chewed slowly.

“No one,” he muttered around the food when the silence dragged on. The topic of conversation then moved onto Gemma and Ben Winston’s apparent courtship.

“He seems nice, doesn’t he?” Anne said, looking from her husband to her daughter.

“London School of Economics, you could do a lot worse,” Desmond agreed with a pleasant smile.

“He seems a bit stuck-up to me,” Harry said, feeling a little uncomfortable. He knew how the other staff talked about Ben, how he’d driven Perrie and Zayn away with his behaviour.

 “Maybe compared to those you hang out with,” Gemma replied, in an unusually venomous tone. It was as if she’d physically hit him; Harry recoiled, and then looked to his parents. Anne had a worried frown, and Desmond looked angry.

“You’ve been with some of the staff, haven’t you?” Desmond asked, curtly. Harry hesitated, but when his mother gave a small nod, he sighed.

“Yes,” he said, poking at his food.

“Then you certainly cannot fault Gemma for the company she’s having,” Desmond said, with a finality that killed any chance of discussion.

He felt suddenly ill at the thought of Gemma and Ben being celebrated, but if anyone knew how much Louis and Harry were spending time with each other, Harry would be told off and dragged away.

They wouldn’t understand how wonderful Louis was, he thought angrily, stabbing at his peas with the fork. They would never hear the pearly laugh Louis made when Harry stumbled, they’d never see the way his eyes crinkled when he talked about his little sisters, or how intently he would listen when Harry told him about what he wanted for his future. They would never understand how amazingly patient he’d been with Harry every step of the way.

Harry swallowed.  He didn’t think he just wanted to prove Louis wrong anymore. The thought made his heart hammer in his chest.

~*~

It was with a newfound resolve Harry made his way to Louis’ cottage the following day. His chest felt filled to the brim with excitement and there was a spring in his step. He faltered, though, when he caught sight of the cottage and the man in front of it, a man deep in conversation with Louis.

There was something about the body language of the stranger that set Harry’s teeth on edge; it was how Louis seemed a bit hunched into him, while he stood all too close; like they were sharing secrets or… Harry hesitated to think it, but couldn’t resist; like they’d been kissing.

Harry slowed, suddenly unsure if he was supposed to witness this meeting even though it was out in the open for anyone to see.

He couldn’t hear what they were saying; the wind only carried the faintest trace of their voices. When Louis caught sight of Harry, he seemed to tense up and shy away from the visitor in the same instant. The man looked around and saw Harry, too. He only smiled and put a hand on Louis’ arm in a strangely intimate gesture before giving a quick hug goodbye.

He disappeared towards the rest of the servants’ quarters without sparing Harry another glance. Timidly, Harry approached Louis. There was something ugly growing in place of his excitement, and Harry feared it would spill out when he opened his mouth.

Still he asked, “Who was that?”

Louis answering smile was sunny, and Harry felt the ugliness twist in his stomach.

“That was my dance instructor, Nicholas – the one I told you about? He got me this job.”

Louis paused and looked down, and his smiled turned soft.

“Helped me in a lot of ways, really.”

Harry felt an irrational urge to find this man and punch him in his handsome face. Instead he touched Louis arm for a brief moment. Louis looked up at him, and Harry cleared his throat.

“Should we practice the lift again?” he asked. Louis shook his head lightly, showing his teeth in a genuine smile.

“I thought we would warm up with something easier first, Curly.”

That made some of the ugly feeling in the pit of Harry’s stomach dissipate. He followed Louis inside, feeling almost relieved when Louis put on the old familiar cha-cha track, opening his arms and allowing Harry to lead him into the dance.

~*~

“I just feel like I’m off,” Harry complained, crossing his arms defensively. If someone told him he was pouting, he would have denied it vehemently.

It was three days before their performance.

Louis sighed and pushed his hair out of his eyes. There was a day’s worth of stubble on his chin, and Harry had to restrain himself not to reach out and drag his fingers along the line of his jaw.

“You’re doing fine, Curly. You know all the steps.”

“But I don’t know how to make them look good, like you,” Harry said stubbornly, wishing immediately afterwards that he could swallow his tongue. Louis’ lips twitched, like he was suppressing a smirk. He moved closer to Harry.

Harry let Louis take his hand and place it on his own chest.

“You know the steps, so you have to stop thinking about it,” he said, softly and with such certainty that Harry felt his heartbeat stutter.

He wondered if Louis could feel it, because he curled his fingers lightly where they were placed on Harry’s chest, right above the heart.

“The beat is simple, just move to it, you know,” Louis continued evenly, gaze falling down. Harry looked at him, regarding the shadow of Louis’ eyelashes on his cheeks.

“It’s just like your heartbeat. Ta-tum. Ta-tum,” Louis said, tapping his fingers in tandem with his words. Harry realized his mouth hung open, and quickly licked his lips.

“Alright,” he said, voice darker than he’d anticipated.

Louis’ gaze flickered up, a glimmer of blue, and Harry could almost taste the electricity in the air. Louis teeth dug into his lower lip and Harry wanted to push his thumb there.

The moment was broken by Louis leaning back a little, clapping his hands on Harry’s shoulders and theatrically exclaiming, “Sweep me away, Styles!”


	4. chapter four

They hadn’t mastered the lift, not even when they were both dressed up in fancy suits, waiting backstage at the festival. Harry felt like bricking it; his hands were clammy and he could not stop pulling them through his hair.

“You’ll ruin the ‘do,” Louis murmured distractedly and grabbed his hand, holding it casually, like the act didn’t make Harry’s heart flutter in his chest.

“’M really nervous, Lou,” Harry muttered back, tightening his grip on Louis’ hand reflexively. Louis looked at him then, arm twitching like he was about to pull his away his hand. He didn’t though, and Harry had to swallow because Louis looked absolutely stunning.

He was wearing a well-tailored, black suit and crisp white shirt, one button undone and showing off just a hint of skin. His soft, brown hair was swept off his forehead in an artful quiff, and his thin lips were bitten red from worry. Harry swallowed again.

“What if I don’t remember the steps,” he said with a small voice, painfully aware of how warm Louis’ hand was in his.

Louis grabbed his shoulder with his free hand and waited until Harry met his eyes. His blue eyes seemed piercing, and Harry hunched a bit.

“You’ll do great, Harry,” he said softly. “Trust me, alright? I trust you.”

Louis tapped at his chest, and Harry remembered his words, _it’s just like your heartbeat, just move to it_.

“Alright,” Harry echoed, a strange feeling blooming in his gut and mixing with the leaden weight of worry, and then Louis was pulling him out from behind the curtains onto the scene, the announcement ringing in his ears,

“And now, the British Amateur Latin American Tournament here at the Blackpool festival, Louis Tomlinson and his partner for the local Cowell Resort, with a rendition of the cha-cha!”

Harry could hear the crowd quieting down when they caught sight of them. Louis seemed to have eyes for only him though, and he smiled encouragingly.

When the familiar strand of music floated through the air, Harry took a deep breath, straightened up and squared his shoulders, gripping Louis firmly.

 _Now or never_ , he thought.

Afterwards Harry could only remember the rush of performing: how _right_ it felt, moving to the music with Louis never more than an arm’s length away. Nearing the climax of the song, Louis looked at Harry, inclining his head in an unspoken question. Harry understood, and shook his head incrementally, a wild lock of hair settling across his eyes.

Louis didn’t jump into his arms, and Harry didn’t lift him – they turned it into a kind of twirl, Louis’ skipping over Harry’s feet and coming to a halt. They took their bows to applause; someone wolf whistled, and while there were no jeers there were no cheers either.

“I think we confused them,” Louis whispered out of the corner of his mouth, chest heaving. A big guffaw escaped Harry, who immediately clapped his hands over his mouth in mortification. Louis only laughed, high and clear, and tugged Harry with him off the scene.

They could hear the announcer saying,

“Thanks to Cowell resort for that entertaining show. But the rules clearly state that the contestants have to be male and female, so sadly, we have to disqualify these two young men-”

“What do we do now?” Harry half-whispered, half-laughed, while jogging after Louis.

“C’mon Curly, I just want to get out of here!” Louis replied, elbowing past all the well-dressed people milling about the venue or practicing their dance moves before a performance.

Pushing out into the open was like taking the first breath after emerging from water. Harry automatically straightened up, filling his lungs with the cool evening air. Louis walked straight up to his Lambretta, swinging his leg over it and settling into the seat.

He looked over at Harry and flicked his head towards the back.

“Are you comin’ or not?”

Harry took a moment, smiling and looking at the picture Louis made. He was a cutout against the darkened blue sky mottled with pink clouds, his frame illuminated by the many lights of the Winter Gardens courtyard, making his skin glow gold in contrast to inky black shadows.

“Of course I’m coming,” Harry mumbled, happily. Louis looked down at that, but Harry hopped on and hugged Louis’ torso tightly. He leaned his chin on Louis’ shoulder, and felt Louis relax against him.

The Lambretta sputtered to life, and they drove away in a spray of gravel, the wind making Louis’ hair tickle Harry’s face.

Harry thought he had never felt this alive in his life, blood sizzling in his veins, the chilly air prickling at this skin and Louis’ warm body pressed against his, their heartbeats thudding against each other.

It didn’t even occur to Harry to ask where they were going. He didn’t know Blackpool well enough to find his way back to the resort on his own, and yet he felt completely safe in Louis’ company.

They left the Lambretta by the South Pier – they walked past the façade of the Grand Pavillion, still bearing signs of fire, up to the great construction site by the Regal Theatre. The pier was completely abandoned for once, and Harry looked out at the sea, glittering with the last rays of the sun, heaving a deep and content sigh.

Louis was leaning onto a metal frame by the construction site, looking to the horizon as well. A cold gust of wind made Harry shiver and curl into Louis, who let him, shifting his arm to welcome him.

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Louis turned his head at that moment and suddenly they were sharing their breaths. Harry couldn’t help looking at Louis’ lips as they parted over a slow exhale, and when he tore his gaze away to look into Louis’ eyes, he found them glued to his own mouth.

“Harry,” Louis whispered, and all Harry could say was,

“Yes.”

They met in a breathless kiss, Louis’ hand coming up to cup Harry’s face while Harry’s hands settled on Louis’ hips after helplessly roaming over his arms and chest. They slotted together like they were made for it, and Harry felt almost dizzy.

Louis smelled of salt and cologne; Harry let his tongue follow the seam of his mouth, while Louis’ thumb stroked his cheek slowly. They were not pushing away from each other but not pushing in either. When Harry drew in a breath, Louis teeth closed on his lower lip for just a second, before he pulled away.

“Harry,” he repeated with a broken voice, sending shivers down Harry’s spine. “Are you sure? I mean, I…”

Harry cut him off by bending down to kiss him again. Louis’ other hand gripped his shoulder blade like a vice, and Harry groaned softly into Louis’ mouth.

“Yes,” he mumbled against Louis lips, and he could feel them stretch into a smile, so he smiled too.

The sound of the ocean was just a faint noise in his ears, barely distinguishable over the thud of his own heartbeat and the sound of Louis’ breathing with him.

~*~

“We should head back, yeah?” Louis murmured, pressing a light kiss against Harry’s hair. Harry sighed and swung his legs where they dangled from the very end of the pier. He enjoyed Louis’ arm around his shoulders, and he knew he couldn’t keep doing this they got back to the resort. He briefly nuzzled into Louis’ neck before straightening his back.

“You’re right,” he replied, stretching his legs.

“Aww, don’t sound so sad, Hazza,” Louis said, smiling. He ruffled Harry’s hair, but it turned into a little scalp massage which had Harry slumping back against Louis again.

“I’m not sad, I’m happy,” Harry mumbled back. It was a simple thing to say, but it felt like an enormous truth, something that could swallow him whole if he wasn’t careful.

“That’s good,” said Louis with an unreadable expression but with such a fond tone of voice that it made Harry’s heart ache.

They got up and trundled back to the Lambretta with their arms still slung across each other. Harry held onto Louis tightly the entire way back to the resort, and it was with a heavy heart he clambered off in front of his family’s cottage.

He opened his mouth to say a farewell, but before he could there was the sound of a door slamming, and suddenly a bright light was spilling out onto the terrace.

“Harry!” came a shout, and Harry’s heart sank as his father stormed down the stairs dressed in a robe. “Where have you been? Your mum’s been worried sick.”

“Harry,” repeated Anne, who came trailing after her husband, dressed in similar attire. “Harry, darling, are you all right?”

“I’m fine, mum,” Harry reassured her before either of them could reach him. “I’ve been out.”

He glanced at Louis, who dismounted the Lambretta, but kept a hand on it, and added,

“Just making friends.”

“Friends?” Desmond repeated, head snapping towards Louis. “You call him your friend? I’ll not have you out and about doing God knows what with _that_ sort!”

Harry bit back his reply, suddenly afraid.

“He’s not any _sort_ , dad,” he tried weakly, just as Anne laid a placating hand on her husband’s arm. “He’s just my friend.”

“He’s a show-off and most like a queer!” Desmond barked, taking a step forward. Harry shrunk back, and his shoulder bumped into Louis.

“I – no, I, we’re just…” Harry tried, but Louis took a step to the side, towards his Lambretta.

“I’d better leave,” he whispered. There was a look in his eyes that made Harry’s heart ache. Still he nodded, hoping against hope that he could convey how much Louis meant to him just by squeezing his arm briefly.

“I forbid you to associate with his kind!” Desmond continued, grabbing Harry’s arm and yanking him forward, forcibly separating him from Louis.

Before Harry could right himself, he was hauled inside by the scruff of his neck, the door slamming behind him on the sound of Louis kicking the Lambretta into gear.

Tears pooled in Harry’s eyes as the sound of the engine died away. He sucked in a desperate breath and straightened his back to face his parents.

~*~

After a thorough telling off – _You’re going to university, Harry, you’re better than people like him, you should act like it_ – from his father, and a hug from his mother, Harry was sent to his room without supper. Like a child.

Not once did he intend to obey his parents – Harry needed to get out, he needed to get to Louis and tell him, tell him something, _anything_ so that Harry’s last memory of him wouldn’t be that heartbreaking expression and empty eyes as Louis hopped on his motorcycle to leave.

It was the hardest thing Harry had ever done, but he sat still on his bed for nearly two hours; nervously but silently drumming his fingers on his thigh, pushing a hand through messy curls from time to time, until he was sure everyone in the cottage had gone to bed.

He tiptoed to the window, unlatching it slowly so as to not make any noise. It was difficult to press his lanky body through the open window, but he managed it even though his shirt caught and ripped a little at the seam as he landed on his feet in the dewy grass.

Mere minutes later, Harry was knocking on Louis’ door, heart hammering in his chest. After a little while the door opened, revealing Louis stripped down to undershirt and slacks. The sound of a recorder playing a soft melody spilled out of the doorway.

Louis’ eyebrows rose as he stepped to the side and wordlessly let Harry inside. It was a single room with an unmade bed under the window opposite the door. Things were strewn all over; clothes and bottles scattered among belongings and furniture; clearly lived-in and clearly belonging to Louis.

Harry took a deep breath, turning around to look at him. Louis’ eyes were oddly bright, and he repeatedly pulled his fingers through his mussed hair, as if to tamp it down.

“It’s a bit of a mess,” he said apologetically, scratching the back of his right leg with his bare left foot as his hands landed on his hips.

“I want to apologize for what my father said,” Harry interrupted, words escaping his mouth in a rush. Louis went silent, staring intently at Harry. The track on the record ended, making the silence between them even more poignant.

“You don’t need to,” Louis said softly, at last.

“He doesn’t know you,” Harry insisted, a strange sense of urgency building in his chest. “He doesn’t.”

“He wasn’t wrong,” Louis said, looking down at his toes over his crossed arms. “I mean, I _am_ a queer, aren’t I? People treat me like I’m a nobody because I _am_ a nobody.”

“No, Lou.” Harry took a step forward, hands itching to touch Louis. He waited until Louis met his eyes before he said.

“You’re everything, Louis.”

He could see Louis sucking in a surprised breath.

“You don’t understand, Harry,” he pleaded, clutching his own arm. “I’m not supposed to… In the winter I work the docks, if the lads knew I was… I need to feed my family.”

He let out a shaky breath before continuing,

“This dancing gig pays well, I have ladies throwing their fucking diamonds at me, I can’t bloody well go around being a queer, can I.”

Something painful spiked through Harry. He swallowed.

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” he said, desperately needing it to be true. The air felt heavy.

Louis regarded him for a moment, an expression of wonder flashing across his face.

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” he said, finally. “You just… You’re so brave.”

“Brave?” Harry almost laughed at the notion, hugging his own arms and looking at the wall. “I just let my dad chase you away!”

Louis stepped closer, uncrossing his arms.

“You came to dance with me at the festival without a second thought,” he said, almost sharply. “Not once did you worry about what people could think of you – that maybe they’d think you were queer hanging around someone like me.”

“I don’t care,” Harry whispered, hands balling into fists. “I don’t care, Louis, all I care about is how I feel about you.”

Louis exhaled shakily, just as the recorder crackled back into life, a song coming on. Louis made a move to go shut it off, but Harry put his hand on his arm.

“Leave it,” he breathed.

Louis stilled, looking up at Harry with a clouded gaze. The moment stretched for an eternity, the music filling the air while Harry and Louis looked at each other.

“Dance with me,” Harry said at last, lifting his hands in an invitation.

For a split second, Harry thought Louis would decline. He looked down, long lashes painting shadows on his cheeks, his whole body straightening up. But then raised his head to meet Harry’s eyes, and put his hands on Harry’s hips.

Harry let out a shaky breath, hands settling on Louis’ waist. The air between them seemed electric; Harry wondered idly if he was supposed to lead Louis, but he needn’t have worried. Louis wasted no time grinding their hips together in a slow, sinuous move. The way Louis’ eyelashes quivered when he looked up at Harry made heat pool in his belly.

They swayed to the music, Harry letting Louis guide him with strong arms. He felt safe; it felt so right, moving together without anyone else in the room.

Harry threw his head back, and Louis’ breaths on his throat made him shiver. He let his hands travel downward to cup Louis’ arse, feeling the muscles bunch beneath his fingers as they moved. Louis responded in kind, one hand coming up to grip a shoulder blade while the other caressed Harry’s lower back, sending tingles throughout his body.

Harry’s pulse beat in his ears, almost drowning out the music. When Louis pushed a thigh in between Harry’s, Harry let out a soft gasp and almost folded in over him. They met in a tender kiss before Louis let his mouth glide down over Harry’s throat and collarbones. The drag of soft lips offset by harsh stubble made Harry tremble.

Louis was a contradiction of smooth softness and sharp angles, and the combination made Harry want more. All he could do was push his hands in under Louis’ undershirt, feeling the toned muscle ripple under the velvet skin of his stomach.

Louis undid Harry’s shirt button by button, kissing every inch of exposed skin. The music mingled with their heartbeats, making the blood in Harry’s veins buzz. He felt like his skin was too small to contain him; every touch from Louis was like a small release.

They pushed their bodies together; kissing each other like it was the only thing saving them from drowning.  Harry could feel the hardness of Louis’ arousal against his hip, his own body responding in kind, mind blissfully blank.

They broke off to pull of their own undershirts, but as soon as they were free they were back, arms tangling in their haste to embrace each other.

Louis leaned back to look up at Harry. It was with a shiver of pleasure Harry noted how Louis’ cheeks had a hectic flush; how his mouth was open, red lips glistening and breath puffing out in loud bursts.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmured, skimming his knuckles against Harry’s stomach just above the lining of his slacks.

Harry smiled, brightly and unabashedly, leaning in to nuzzle Louis’ cheek and whispered in his ear,

“Please don’t stop.”

The smile Harry got in response, a smile that crinkled the corner of Louis’ eyes, made his heart stutter in his chest.  Before he could get another word out, Louis had pushed him down on his bed and crawled over him, eyes dancing with happiness.

Harry had always found the phrase ‘making love’ a little fanciful. He somehow understood it perfectly now, gazing into Louis’ eyes as they explored each others’ bodies in the pale sliver of moonlight that shone in through the curtains, the soft rasping of the record player mingling with the sound of their huffed out breaths and quiet moans.


	5. chapter five

The following weeks seemed to pass Harry by in a whirlwind of breathless giggles and kissing beneath piers, stolen moments away from prying eyes after walking around together, shoulders bumping, Louis smiling the entire time. After these encounters Harry always returned to his family with rosy cheeks, biting his reddened lips.

Even though his parents kept after him with a vigour he hadn’t experienced before his illicit night out with Louis, Harry and Louis had found invaluable confidantes in Liam and Niall.

They seemed to accept Louis and Harry with not so much as a surprised blink. They were all too happy to create a diversion, or explain away Harry’s absence. Harry didn’t know how to thank either of them, but Niall just laughed it away and Liam smiled, brown eyes warm as he enveloped Harry in a one-armed hug.

“Nothing Louis wouldn’t do for one of us,” he said, while Niall nodded enthusiastically. They were all four of them sitting outside their staff cottages, drinking beer and talking about anything and nothing while the day darkened into dusk.

Louis seemed to blush a little at Liam’s proclamation and quickly took a sip of his beer to mask it.

Harry felt a warm feeling bubble up inside, and nudged Louis’ shoulder with his pointy nose. Louis laughed and ruffled Harry’s curls, blue eyes twinkling.

They kept their interactions mostly inconspicuous in public, except for one memorable time when Louis had pushed Harry in behind a shop, fallen to his knees and taken Harry into his mouth right there in the alley because he couldn’t wait until they were back at the resort. Harry still hadn’t quite recovered, the memory of it sending warm tingles down his spine.

Night was falling quickly now, and Harry got to his feet with a deep sigh.

“Need to head back before my parents wonder how bloody long it takes for me to buy one ice lolly down at the North Pier,” he said, smiling ruefully.

“Such language, Hazza,” Niall cackled, raising his bottle. “Don’t tell me we’ve rubbed off on you with our working class attitude.”

“I think you’ve done much worse,” Harry said, smile turning a little cheeky as he patted Louis’ shoulder, letting his touch linger. Louis peered up at him, laughter painting small crow’s feet at the creases of his eyes.

“Go on then, Styles,” he said. “I’ll follow you for a bit, if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” Harry agreed, and Louis set down his bottle. They walked together along to row of servants’ cottages in comfortable silence while the sound of Niall and Liam’s chatting died away.

“See you later, love,” Louis said with a touch to Harry’s elbow.

Harry was about to reply when Ben rounded the corner, making an almost comical double take at the sight of them.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled, fixing the collar of the shirt he wore underneath his white sweater. “You Styleses sure do get around, don’t you?”

“What d’you mean,” Harry said, cold dread climbing up his throat. Louis’ shoulder pressed into Harry’s in a reassuring gesture. Ben laughed and scratched at his dark hair.

“You make a funny couple, you and that tyke.” He nodded at Louis, who tensed up. “A northern monkey and a southern fairy, innit?”

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but before he could say a word, Louis sprang at Ben like an arrow from bow.

The crunch of Louis’ knuckles connecting with Ben’s jaw made Harry recoil. There was retaliation, Ben’s flailing arm hitting Louis at the temple, but he went down like a tree after Louis’ kneed him in the stomach.

Louis took a step back, chest heaving and body taut with coiled energy.

“You shut your bloody mouth, you fucking wanker,” he spit, making Harry flinch again. His pulse was racing, like he’d been the one to take down Ben himself.

“You’re not fucking worth it, Tomlinson,” Ben coughed. He crawled up and started inching away. Louis watched him with a look of barely concealed contempt.

“Fuck off,” he bit back, turning back to Harry a little, as if to see how he’d taken the ordeal.

Harry waited until Ben had scampered off before he melted into Louis’ arms.

“You don’t need to defend me or anything,” he mumbled into Louis’ temple, soothing it with a quick kiss. Ben’s punch had split Louis’ eyebrow, blood welling up and clotting the fine hairs. Louis hummed, and pressed his palm into Harry’s back.

Harry exhaled shakily.

“I don’t care what Ben thinks of me, or what he says,” he added, rubbing his thumb against Louis’ hip.

 “I just bloody hate him,” Louis replied softly.

~*~

Harry still felt jittery as he returned to his family’s cottage. He wished more than anything that he could sleep by Louis’ side once again, and wake up in the morning with their limbs tangled and eyes heavy with sleep, Ben Winston forgotten and the rest of the world distant.

He put off going to bed even though he could hear his parents turning in for the night. He was browsing a book he’d brought with him – it was on the study of law, and would help him immensely when his studies started.

Harry sighed and let the book fall shut in his lap.

There was a clap of noise from his window, startling him. The book fell to the floor with a dull thud, and Harry looked up to see Louis’ face framed by the window. His features were alight in a mischievous smile, and Harry immediately felt his pulse respond.

He opened the window, quietly, and leaned out. The cool night air hit him like a promise, and Harry dared to land a brief kiss on the tip of Louis’ nose. The cut on his brow had already started to heal, but the skin was mottled with bruising.

“What are you doing, Louis?” Harry asked, completely unable to keep the laughter out of his voice.

“Come on Harry, lets’ go! Niall can get us in to the Queen’s Theatre, the Beatles are playing!” Louis stage-whispered excitedly, reaching up to tug at Harry’s shoulder.

The half-formed protest on Harry’s lips died away.

“No way,” he whispered back. “The Beatles?”

“They’ve been playing on Sunday nights all of July, Harry,” Louis said, rolling his eyes but smiling all the same. “You coming or not?”

Harry couldn’t clamber through the window fast enough.

~*~

It had been pure madness, getting through the throng of people gathered around the Queen’s Theatre to get a glimpse of their idols. Niall knocked a security guard on his shoulder, and the man ushered them through a small side door. Liam was smiling like he couldn’t stop, but Harry just felt completely dazed.

All the girls were screaming their hearts out as soon as the four Beatles got up on stage, but Harry just silently clung onto Louis, who laughed into his hair as they danced to ‘Please Please Me’and ‘Twist and Shout’.

When the first tone of ‘Love Love Me Do’ was strung, Harry laughed as well. Watching the four boys up on stage made Harry’s stomach flutter.

“Louis,” he shouted at Louis. “Louis, I think I might want to be a singer one day.”

Louis looked at him and smiled.

“You’d be great, love,” he mouthed back, hugging Harry with one arm. Harry laughed again, put his lips to Louis’ ear and said,

“ _P.S,_ _I love you._ ”

This time, they laughed at the same time.

~*~

Harry was in such a cheerful mood at breakfast that Gemma kept poking a finger into the dimple in his cheek and asked him about his smiling repeatedly. Not even Simon and Ben’s presence could diminish his happiness.

 “-terrible thing,” Simon was saying to Desmond. “There’s been a few thefts on the resort this summer, but he says his wallet was in his coat pocked all evening. It was there when he stepped out for a smoke at ten, and when he was back a quarter past, it was gone.”

“You know,” Ben said slowly around a mouthful of scones. “I think I saw Tomlinson – you know, the dance instructor – loitering about the pavilion yesterday evening.”

 “Couldn’t have been,” Harry interjected immediately, a fresh sense of dread quickly overtaking his happiness.

Simon looked from him to Ben and back to him.

“What makes you so sure, Harry?” he said with a tone that made it completely clear that he believed his nephew.

Harry set down his tea, straightening up. He didn’t dare glance at his parents.

“Because I was with him at the Queen’s Theatre last night.”

There was a soft clink as Anne set down her spoon. Desmond was gaping openly, and Harry cringed. He felt Gemma move a little closer to him, and a lump formed in his throat by the silent show of solidarity.

“Well, then,” Simon said, dismissing Ben with a wave of his hand. “You need to be keeping a better look out, Ben.”

“I’m very disappointed in you, Harry.” Desmond was using his sternest tone, and Harry curled in on himself a little.

“I couldn’t let Louis be fired for something he didn’t do,” he defended himself weakly.

“Yeah, especially after Ben-” Gemma indicated him with a jerk of her head “- went and accused him for it.”

“Don’t you take that tone with me, young lady!” Desmond barked, a hand coming down on the table in a cacophony of rattling cutlery

“Calm down, dear,” Anne said where she sat beside her daughter. “At least Harry told us the truth.”

“I don’t care!” Desmond shouted and pointed at Harry. “We explicitly told him not to go out with that Tomlinson kid, and he still did.”

At this, Harry straightened up and inhaled deeply. He summoned all his courage, remembering Louis punching Ben right in his face.

“I’m not a child,” Harry said, got up and walked out of the door.

~*~

Harry walked around the golf green until he felt calm enough to go find Louis. He was restless, something itching just under his skin. He felt like talking to Louis would help.

Harry found him in his cottage, in the middle of packing his belongings.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, a panicked edge creeping into his voice as he leaned on the doorframe.

Louis looked up from his duffel bag, sweeping a strand of hair off his face.

“I was, how did they put it? _Let off_ ,” he intoned drily, a mean twist to his mouth. “I’m done with Cowell Resort, it seems.”

 Harry gripped the doorframe so hard his knuckles whitened.

“But I told them it wasn’t you…” he said, before it dawned on him. He let go of the doorframe, almost tripping into the cottage. His bones felt heavy.

“He fired you for… for being with me.”

Louis let his duffel fall the floor and reached out a hand to steady Harry.

“Harry,” he said, quietly. Harry shook his head.

“It was all for nothing, then. My parents are mad at me, and we danced… all for nothing. You still got fired,” he said, numbly.

Louis placed his other hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“No, Harry,” he said, his voice light and warm. “Harry, no one has ever stood up for me like you did.”

Harry let his eyes wander over Louis’ face, the tilt of his thin mouth, his nose, the bruising on his brow that had turned dark, intersecting with a curved eyebrow. There were spots of green and grey in his eyes, and Harry felt mesmerized.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he said, the only thing he could think to say, the only thing that could express how much Harry wanted to be with Louis and only Louis.

Louis looked away and sighed. When he looked back up, there was a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth, even though his eyes were sad.

“Come find me in Manchester when you start your studies, Harry.”

~*~

It was the last full day of the Styles’ stay at the resort, and it was the day Louis was leaving. Harry had always known they would have to part, but it had been an abstract concept. Faced by the harsh reality of Louis swinging the duffel bag onto his Lambretta, he felt blindsided.

It was a strange goodbye. They kissed quickly over the motorcycle, making sure no one could see them as Louis brushed over Harry’s cheek with his thumb. He looked almost divine, golden skin alight in the late afternoon sun, his denim jacket bringing out the blue of his eyes.

Harry felt a lump in his throat, but his eyes had never felt drier.

They hugged.

“I’ll miss you,” Harry said, thickly, into Louis’ hair.

“I’ll never forget you, Curly,” Louis whispered into Harry’s neck.

Harry tucked the promise away, holding onto it as he watched Louis disappear in a little cloud of dust by the turn of the road.

~*~

Harry felt oddly numb the rest of the day, just floating by, doing things without really being present. He dressed dutifully for dinner, and followed his family as dutifully to the great hall afterwards, where guests gathered to enjoy the talent show that Cowell resort put on at the end of every July.

“You’ll do so great, Harry,” Anne said, eyes kind as she patted him. Harry nodded absently, licking his lips. Gemma nudged him encouragingly as he got up to take the far end of the hall, where the floor was cleared beside a piano. A middle-aged lady sat at the piano nodded at him with a smile, flicking to the appropriate page in the program she’d been handed.

Harry blinked as he got into the harsh spotlight. His mouth fell open, but he couldn’t remember the words even though the light strum of piano keys was familiar.

All the expectant faces turned his way made his head buzz; through it he heard a door click shut. Harry saw him immediately – Louis had entered through a side door, still clad in his jean jacket, hands in its pockets, hair falling in a swirl on his forehead. He seemed unable to decide if he could step up, but Harry immediately took a step forward, holding out his arms. He did a come-hither motion with his hands as a smile broke out on his face, and Louis caught on immediately, breaking into a run.

He sprinted down the small aisle between tables and leapt into Harry’s arms, Harry lifting him almost effortlessly into the air.

Harry’s heart soared as he twirled, Louis laughing above him. He landed on his feet gracefully as Harry set him down, and they danced a few steps to the astonished silence and one off-note on the piano.

“Come with me, Harry,” Louis mumbled, eyelashes fluttering as he looked down where their chests pressed together. “Don’t just find me in Manchester, come live with me there.”

Harry’s mouth fell open again, this time in astonishment.

“Do you mean it, Louis?” he said breathlessly. He looked over at where his family was seated. Gemma was grinning broadly, and Anne’s hand was gripping Desmond’s arm tight, as if to keep him in place

Louis nodded energetically, tripping over his words in his rush to get them out.

“Like, I can stay with Liam while you sort your things out, Niall can give us both a ride there when you’re ready. I want you to come, I really do.”

Harry looked Louis’ in his eyes, their shape and colour so familiar it made Harry ache. His hand slid up Louis’ arm, involuntarily, thumb pressing into the joint between Louis’ shoulder and neck.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, I’ll come with you, Louis.”

Louis smiled, and it felt like coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked the fic, and if you did I'd love to hear comments!
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr if you want, [here](http://trailsofpaper.tumblr.com/tagged/dirty%20dancing%20au) is my tag for this fic if you want some visual aid :))))


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